


Waiting for Spring

by cathema



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Occasional swearing, Some Jack Gilbert poems, This is an AU fic, i love these two too much, mention of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:45:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathema/pseuds/cathema
Summary: Kuroo had only ever been enamored with a person in his lifetime once. And then "The Dream" happened. Everyday, he dreamt of the neighborhood where he lived, and he always saw a stranger with short blond hair, a tall stature, and black-framed glasses in his dreams. He didn't know who he was, but he was determined to find out.Kuroo had only ever been enamored with a person in his lifetime once. And then "The Dream" happened. That was the second time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ever let anyone doubt your capability to finish a 54-page oneshot in a week.

The foam cat that topped Kuroo’s vanilla latte slowly melted, untouched, to form a disfigured blob with a wide mischievous smile. He hadn’t touched it since he ordered it about half an hour ago alongside the slice of strawberry shortcake that sat half-eaten between him and the man across where he sat.

Kenma, Kuroo’s long-time best friend, sipped the remaining drop of his hot cocoa before setting the now empty mug to the corner of the table. He glanced first at the shortcake, then to the untouched latte, then to Kuroo whose head hung in contemplation.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said, interrupting the silence between them, “that _does_ sound kind of weird.”

Kuroo sighed. “I know.”

“And you’re sure you’ve never met this person?”

Kuroo rested his chin on the palm of his hand. “Yup,” he answered. “I’m sure I would remember someone like that.”

“How come?”

Kuroo shrugged. He picked up a fork and dangled it above the shortcake, raking in small bits of icing with the tips of the metal spires. Kenma watched Kuroo do this before saying, “Are you sure it isn’t because you keep thinking about it, that’s why it happens every night?”

“Maybe that is. But,” Kuroo set the fork down and leaned back on his chair, “I feel like he’s haunting me because he has no choice. He seems so lost. He _wants_ me to find him.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow. “You believe he’s a real person?”

For the first time since the two sat down across each other in a quiet neighborhood cafe, Kuroo looked at Kenma in the eyes. “Yes, I do.”

Kenma kept his gaze for a few moments and sighed. “Okay. What did you say he looked like again?”

  

 

 

 

He had short blond hair, a tall stature, and black-framed glasses. Those were the three things Kuroo thought about every waking moment since the first dream.

He had only ever been enamored with a person in his lifetime once. It was back in High School when a girl slightly shorter than he was with long black hair and a weird yet charming lopsided grin saved a stray cat from a group of seniors in an alleyway. Kuroo was going to do it himself when that girl swiftly and bravely beat him to it. Kuroo could still remember that moment like it happened yesterday; she had been unarmed except with a sharp tongue and had merely chastised the group into silence and resignation. No one had dared lay a finger on her then and even after and it had befuddled Kuroo for the entire year—he had spent a good few weeks tailing behind her every day just in case the delinquents came back for revenge, but they never did. In those few weeks of following her, Kuroo admired her more and more. She was strong and fearless, and Kuroo had never wanted any other girl. He had only ever been enamored with a person in his lifetime once.

And then The Dream happened. Short blond hair, a tall stature, and black-framed glasses. That was the second time.

 

 

 

 

Kuroo could feel his eyes ache as he peered close to his laptop screen, inspecting every single photo he had uploaded and been tagged in on his social media accounts. He began at exactly 8:17 A.M. It was now 1:38 P.M.; his finger was already tired from clicking the right arrow on his keyboard, his stomach was growling from hunger, and his eyes were tearing up from over-exposure to blue light. He’s browsed through countless photos, and he still couldn’t find him.

He stood up and paced around his small apartment. He’s certain he has never met that tall blond man—his photos through the years proved it too—and yet The Dream persisted every single night.

“Who are you?” Kuroo whispered under his breath. “Who are you?”

 

 

 

 

On the first night of The Dream, Kuroo had barely an inkling that it was going to be a dream much different than the others. He dreamt of his neighborhood—with the usual bustling streets and noisy chatter from people he knew and people he didn’t—and he dreamt he was on his way to the nearby river to see the cherry blossoms budding in the trees that lined the river bank.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a tall man sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the faceless crowd who moved quickly past him. Kuroo turned his head only slightly to glance at the figure when he suddenly awoke to the blaring noise of his alarm.

On the second night of The Dream, Kuroo found himself yet again somewhere in his neighborhood. He was taking a leisurely stroll along the sidewalk with his head up in the clouds, and eventually reached a pedestrian lane at an intersection.

There was a man across the street looking bored out of his mind and tapping his foot impatiently at the red light. Kuroo watched him with curiosity, briefly, until the light turned green. He passed the man by without a word.

On the third night, Kuroo started to wonder why he kept dreaming of his neighborhood. “As if I don’t see enough of this during my waking hours,” he muttered in annoyance. He spent his dream time doing random idle things—from petting stray cats, to peering through café windows. And seated on a sidewalk bench is that same man he met at the pedestrian crossing. Kuroo frowned as if realizing something dreadful and this dread caused him to awaken an hour earlier than his alarm.

That entire day, he started to think about The Dream and the mysterious man he had never met before. He went to work at the neighborhood’s martial arts gym slightly distracted, earning an incessant “Earth to Kuroo! Did a cat die, or something?” from his co-trainer and friend, Bokuto.

“No,” Kuroo replied. “I feel like I’m being haunted.”

Bokuto made a face. “The hell, man. Don’t bring your curse here, of all places!”

“I’m not cursed.”

“You said you were being haunted!”

“That’s different from being cursed, you loud-mouthed idiot!”

In the end, Bokuto made Kuroo swear he wouldn’t show up to work until he received “purification” from whatever “evil spirit” that was haunting Kuroo.

That night, the fourth night, Kuroo found himself again in his dream neighborhood. He gulped; if he ran into that man again, then it’ll mean that this entire dream was no coincidence. Kuroo slowly began to walk down the streets, hands in his pockets and his gaze fixated straight ahead. For a while, he didn’t see the man in question.

And then he arrived at the riverside—the cherry blossom buds dotting up the branches of the trees that lined the river bank—and he saw him. Seated on the grass, knees drawn close to his chest, and his face blank as though in serious contemplation. And Kuroo couldn’t help but stare, no longer feeling any dread or fear within him, but a sense of fascination.

He stared and stared until his eyes slowly opened to find himself back in his room, sprawled on his bed and repeating three important details in his mind over and over like a broken record player.

Short blond hair, a tall stature, and black-framed glasses.

 

 

 

The bell that hung from the door frame rang as Kuroo and Kenma stepped out of the café.

“My shift starts soon,” Kenma said. “Let’s just talk about this more some other day.”

Kuroo nodded. “Sure.”

Kenma frowned. “You know, Kuroo, I know it’s all in your head and you’re probably going to do something stupid—knowing you—but seriously, don’t do anything stupid.”

“What?” Kuroo snapped, feigning offense. “How dare you, I am very capable of making sound and appropriate decisions.” Then he added, quietly: “Besides, nothing that you do in a dream affects you in real life, so…”

Kenma blinked. “Whatever, Kuroo. Just go do you.” He turned around in a sluggish manner and continued, “I just said that because you looked so serious the entire time we ate; it was starting to annoy me.” And he walked away, barely waving a goodbye.

Kuroo watched his friend walk away, an amused smile forming on his face for the first time that day, before turning around to head to the opposite direction. He walked the long route back to his house, the route that passed the riverside where the cherry blossom trees still stood bare in that chilly month of February. He stared at the spot where the stranger from The Dream sat and he was mildly surprised that he even remembered that detail. He sighed; he must have met the stranger somewhere before… a customer at the martial arts center, maybe? A Starbucks barista? The confusion was eating him whole and he had no idea what to do. After a while of staring at the outstretched branches in contemplation, he continued his walk home.

He arrived at his apartment in 20 minutes. He took off his shoes, dropped his keys at the plate atop his kitchen counter, freed himself from his thick coat and scarf, then dropped his body on the couch. He rested for a while, browsing his social media to distract himself from his thoughts, then watched TV shows when the Internet stopped amusing him.

When the sun had set, he prepared dinner and ate while reading a book he picked up from the bookstore a while back. It was 7:30 P.M. when he started to freshen up for bed. He knew it was a little too early, but he had really wanted to meet that stranger again in his dream. For a good hour, he tossed and turned on his bed, until he eventually drifted off into slumber.

 

 

 

Kuroo didn’t have to walk far to find the stranger seated on the bench beside a shut off fountain near the park. He was reading a thin book Kuroo couldn’t recognize and seemed deeply engrossed in it. Kuroo gulped; he had completely forgotten what he had spent an hour planning to say to this stranger and just stood there gawking like a spectator of an outdoor _shogi_ game.

He spent a few more seconds mustering the courage to finally approach the man. And when he did, he said, “Mind if I take a seat?”

The blond glanced at him. “I’m sorry?”

“I said: do you mind if I take a seat next to you?”

The blond blinked. “Yes.”

Kuroo laughed sheepishly.

“Oh,” the blond said, “sorry, I didn’t know I said that out loud. What do you want?”

 _He’s rather salty_ , Kuroo thought. But then again, he didn’t even consider the kind of personality this stranger would have. So he tried to adjust. “Just to sit next to a lonely guy busy reading a book in this abandoned part of the park,” he replied.

The man grimaced. He rose from his seat and took a step opposite Kuroo’s direction, but Kuroo took his arm before he had a chance to walk away. “Hold on,” Kuroo said. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I’ve been seeing you a lot around here lately.” _In this dream of mine_ , he thought. “And you’ve got me intrigued. I just wanted to get to know you better.”

The blond glared at him. “That’s a creepy thing for someone to do, if you ask me.”

“It always works in books and movies.”

“They aren’t real.”

“This isn’t—” Kuroo bit back his tongue. “I’m serious, though. I just genuinely want to get to know you. I’m not a stalker or anything.” He slowly eased his grip on the blond’s arm and held his hand out instead. “I’m Kuroo. I’m a trainer at _Yujutsu_.”

The man stared at the hand. “If you’re just trying to market your services to me, I’m not interested.”

“I’m honestly not.”

“What do you want?” He was growing impatient.

“Like I said,” Kuroo said, trying his best to sound sincere. “I want to get to know you. Maybe get your name…?”

“I’m not the type to be easily swayed by strangers,” the man replied. “But if I tell you my name, will you leave me alone?”

It was a tempting offer. All Kuroo wanted was to get the man’s name, because he could then look for him in real life and The Dream would be over. He contemplated on it briefly, before saying, “Perhaps. If you give me your real name.”

The man clicked his tongue, but said nothing.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

The man eyed him. With a sigh, he said, “It’s Tsukishima.” Then turned on his heel and walked away.

 

 

 

Kuroo knew that he didn’t think things through. With a generic name like Tsukishima, it was difficult to discover if he actually existed. He’s tried asking local shopkeepers, scouring through friends’ friends lists online, and even asked Bokuto’s close friend, Akaashi, a doctor at a clinic, to keep his eyes peeled for a tall bespectacled blond man arriving for an annual check-up. But the longer he came up empty-handed, the more he’s convinced that Tsukishima was a ghost.

 

 

 

 

“I like the part where the cat begins its inner monologue about the gift and curse of its 9 lives,” Kuroo said, leaning over Tsukishima who was seated on the grass by the riverside again.

Tsukishima closed his book and shot Kuroo a glare. “You told me you’d fuck off if I told who my name.”

“I never gave a definite answer, Tsukishima-kun,” Kuroo replied. He sat down beside Tsukishima, despite the icy stare he was being given. “Well, I would have, if it actually helped me.”

“Help you with what?”

“Oh, _now_ you’re curious about me?” Kuroo smirked, riling up Tsukishima even further.

“I don’t like you,” Tsukishima spat.

Kuroo shrugged. “Too bad. I feel like you’re going to be stuck with me for a long while.”

“And why is that?”

Kuroo met his gaze. “You might not be aware that all this,” he gestured to his surroundings, “is all a dream—my dream. And I’ve been dreaming this same dream for almost a week now. And every single time, I see you. I don’t even have to look for you. You appear out of nowhere, and it’s bothering me.”

He waited for a snarky response, a roll of the eyes, a look of bewilderment from the blond. But instead, his eyes are met with a strange look of...fear?

It didn’t register to Kuroo right away that Tsukishima was staring at him wide eyed and mouth agape.

“What?” Kuroo laughed, in spite of the two of them. “Suddenly you have nothing to say?”

Tsukishima stayed quiet.

Kuroo leaned in close. “Who are you? Why are you haunting me?”

 

 

 

“And what did he say?”

Kuroo held up a CD to marvel at the album cover. Kenma, who was sorting out the LP section at the music shop he worked the night shift at, cleared his throat. “Kuroo, what did he say?”

“Huh? Oh, he ran away.” Kuroo put the CD back down on its shelf.

Kenma stared at him. “That’s it?”

“Yup.”

“You didn’t even bother to run after him?”

“What’s the point?”

“You literally spent days worrying over this ghost and finding out if he was a real person.”

“I think I’ve successfully scared him off.”

“You think.”

“Well, I still dream about the neighborhood, but I don’t see him anymore?”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh, well, I do just hang around the riverside all the time…”

Kenma sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m indulging in this kind of conversation with you. This is all probably just a weird dream phenomenon that’ll soon pass.”

Kuroo nodded. “Yeah, I think so too.”

And if Kuroo sounded strangely dismissive at that moment, Kenma neglected to notice.

 

 

 

The truth was that Kuroo didn’t want to admit he was getting more terrified than intrigued about The Dream and the mysterious Tsukishima. Every time he found himself in The Dream Neighborhood, he would just pass time at the riverside instead, waiting for his real self to wake up. For the first two nights since the confrontation, he did this, trying his hardest not to panic over the feeling of being watched from the distance.

 

 

 

“And what did she say?”

Konoha smirked. “She said she’d let me take her out on a third date.”

Bokuto snorted. “I’m surprised she still talked to you after all that.”

“Well, you know me, I’m a certified Casanova.” Konoha flexed his muscles, earning a boisterous laugh from Bokuto.

“Holy shit, you hear this guy Kuroo?” Bokuto nudged Kuroo who had been stretching his arms. “Sorry, what?” Kuroo said.

Konoha and Bokuto stare at him. “Have you been listening to what he’s been saying at all?” Bokuto asked. Kuroo shrugged in response.

Konoha cocked his head to the side. “You alright dude?”

“Hey, don’t go worrying over this asshole, Konoha.” Bokuto slapped Kuroo’s shoulders twice and shook his body a bit. “To get the tension off. Anyway, I’m out. Looking forward to the next installment of your ‘Konoha Picks Up Random Strangers Every Week’ stories.”

“Nice seeing you, dude.” Konoha and Bokuto bumped fists, and Kuroo watched Bokuto exit the room.

Konoha stood, rolling up the sleeves of his _gi_ , then paused when he noticed Kuroo looking at him. “What?”

“Konoha,” Kuroo began. “You know how to befriend strangers.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s use the term ‘befriend’.”

Kuroo scratched the back of his head. “There’s this person I want to get close to, but I always end up driving him away.”

Konoha blinked. “Why, do you insult him as a greeting?”

“Haha, funny. No, I think it’s because I come off too strongly.”

“Hmm, yeah, people tend to let their guards up when you seem more threatening than friendly.”

“I _was_ trying to be friendly!”

“No offense, Kuroo, but your version of friendly is actually mild harassment.” Konoha placed a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. “The way to a stranger’s heart—or pants, whatever it is you’re after—is to earn their trust, not demand for it.”

Kuroo nodded. “Thanks, bro.”

“Don’t mention it.” Konoha smiled, then swiftly moved his free arm to grab Kuroo’s wrist, but Kuroo had already been one step ahead, successfully sweeping Konoha off his feet and pinning him down on the mat.

“Fuck…” Konoha seethed.

Kuroo laughed. “Okay, great, let’s start the lesson.”

 

 

 

Kuroo stared at the budding cherry blossom trees. Somehow, looking at them made him feel safer despite the discomfort of being watched from afar. “Earn their trust,” Konoha had told him. He slowly turned his head to look at the little 100-yen store on top of the hill. He knew his stalker was there, hiding in the space between the store and the van parked beside it. So he waved. He waved until he saw Tsukishima poke his head out the small clearing in curiosity.

Kuroo waited for Tsukishima to approach him, and when he did, Kuroo said, “Do you like cherry blossom season?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “Who doesn’t?"

Kuroo glanced at the budding trees. “They aren’t supposed to bud at this time of the year. But there they are.”

Tsukishima slowly sat beside Kuroo, hugging his knees. For a while the two don’t say anything, until Tsukishima said, “It’s Kuroo-san, right?”

Kuroo nodded.

“This is your dream?”

“Yeah.”

Tsukishima thought for a few seconds. “I guess that explains why you’re the only one who looks...real around here.”

Kuroo cleared his throat. “Are you… are you a ghost?”

The way Tsukishima scowled at the question made Kuroo regret having asked it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… I’m really confused about what’s been happening to me. I feel like I’m lucid dreaming every night, and I don’t know who you are.”

Tsukishima hesitated before answering, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on either.”

Kuroo was crestfallen. He expected a few answers to his questions; he would have been happy with just one. But talking to Tsukishima made him even more confused and restless.

“Uh,” Kuroo started to say, as he tapped his foot on the ground, “I guess I’m stuck with this dream, huh?”

Tsukishima didn’t reply.

“I’m stuck with you.”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima mumbled. “How unfortunate.”

“Maybe if you actually talked to me in my dreams, then I wouldn’t mind so much.” _Screw Konoha’s advice_ , Kuroo thought. He needed to latch onto this stranger; he knew that if he wouldn’t, he’d go stark raving mad.

“Sounds fair.”

Kuroo watched Tsukishima wring his hands. He couldn’t read the expression on his face, but he was sure of one thing: “You’re not that big of a dick after all.”

“Well, if I had boring dreams like you do, I’d also want someone more interesting to talk to.”

Kuroo’s mouth hung. “Excuse me for not being stuck in a theme park. And who says you’re interesting?”

Tsukishima smirked, in spite of himself. “I was interesting enough for you to be obsessed over.”

“I’m not obsessed. And never mind what I said earlier; you’re a huge dick.”

“Most men find that flattering.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were a man. Show me your balls, then I’d know.” Kuroo scooted closer, a terrifying smirk growing on his face.

Tsukishima grimaced. “You’re a fucking creep.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I really don’t like you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

And at that, the two huffed and refused to talk for the rest of The Dream.

 

 

 

If there’s one thing Kuroo was known for doing, it’s riling up people who were rude and mean for no reason. He’s fended off bullies and generally sour people—he’s admittedly met a lot during his days at _Yujutsu_ —and he’s not about to lose his streak to the salty Tsukishima.

 

 

 

“My favorite part was when the couple shared one last orgasm before the ship sank.”

Tsukishima closed his book and glared at Kuroo who was leaning against the park bench.

“What?” Kuroo said as he took a seat on the bench. “You didn’t like that part?”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should try dreaming up some friends. If you had any.”

“Sucks for you because I can’t.”

“You mean you haven’t tried.”

“I’m not going to subject my real life friends to this torture.”

“They’d be figments of your imagination, not your real life friends.”

Kuroo shivered. “If you’re a figment of my imagination, then my mind must be fucked up.”

Tsukishima grumbled but said nothing in response. Kuroo stretched his arms. “So, Tsukishima-kun, what are your hobbies besides reading?”

The blond shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Okay… Do you like music?”

“Who doesn’t like music.”

“Stop being a stubborn prick.” Kuroo sighed, scratching the back of his head in annoyance. “Okay, okay. Sports?”

Tsukishima looked at him briefly, then stared at his feet. “I used to play volleyball.”

Kuroo’s face lit up. “You’re kidding. I used to play volleyball too. I was captain of my High School team. What position did you play?”

“Middle blocker.”

“What a coincidence.” Kuroo laughed. “Maybe if we find a volleyball around here, we could play.”

Tsukishima snorted. “I’ve long forgotten how to play. I quit when I graduated.”

Kuroo’s smile faltered. “Yeah, me too.”

And again, silence. Tsukishima, strangely enough, was the first to break it. “So why did you get into martial arts? What do you teach, anyway?”

“Uh, karate usually. I learned because I felt I wasn’t getting the exercise I used to have. Plus I kept getting these urges to hit something with my arms. A relapse from quitting volleyball, I guess. When I got good, one of the guys I met at the center invited me to start teaching. Well, he invited me forcefully.” Kuroo started recalling Bokuto’s daily nagging for him to join the team. Not having anything better to do, Kuroo had reluctantly accepted. “Anyway, it puts decent food on the table.”

He lifted a leg and rested his ankle on top of his other knee, then leaned further backward on his seat. “So, are you threatened by my capabilities yet?”

“Frightened.”

“Anyway, I was asking about you! Share some things about yourself.”

Tsukishima raised his nose up. “I’m not going to divulge sensitive information to a man I’ve just met.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Not even if you adored cats over dogs?”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “I’m not fond of pets. But I’d say I’m more of a dog person—”

“Aha!” Kuroo yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Tsukishima who, surprised by Kuroo’s raised voice, scooted farther away from him. “That’s why we don’t click.”

“What?”

“I love cats. You’re a dog person. It makes perfect sense.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Kuroo relaxed his arms, bringing them over his head. “Dog people and cat people have different personalities, you know?”

Tsukishima shook his head in defeat.

“Hmm, what else,” Kuroo pondered. “Okay, favorite food?”

“Strawberry shortcake.” There was no hesitation in Tsukishima’s answer, and Kuroo stared at him in mild amazement. Tsukishima, bothered by Kuroo’s expression, narrowed his eyes and said, “What?”

Kuroo shook his head slowly, letting out a small laugh. “Sorry, I was just imagining you sitting at a fancy café and happily indulging in a slice of strawberry shortcake. It’s ridiculous.”

“Why would you say so?”

“It just doesn’t suit you. Smiling while you’re taking a bite of a huge strawberry… it’s kind of cute.”

It doesn’t take long before Kuroo realized what he just said. Tsukishima was staring at him with raised eyebrows, and a blush creeps onto his face. He stammered, “Wait—”

 

 

 

 _BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE_ —

Kuroo lifted his arm and hit his alarm clock with so much force that he’s convinced he’d put a dent on it. He grumbled, running a hand across his face to wake himself up.

He considered falling back asleep to apologize to Tsukishima for the offhanded comment, but he found himself shaking off the memory instead and heading straight to the bathroom to shower.

It was while he was eating breakfast when his phone suddenly rang. He was surprised to see the caller ID; the call was coming from his old schoolmate and teammate Yaku who had moved to Tokyo for college. He picked it up and said, “Pinch me, I must be dreaming.”

“Hey, Kuroo,” Yaku greeted, much more chipper than Kuroo had remembered him to be.

“You sound like the bearer of good news.” 

Yaku laughed. “Yeah, I am!” He breathed in. “I’m getting married, Kuroo.” 

Kuroo nearly spat out his drink. “You are?” 

“Yeah! Crazy right? Anyway, I’m coming to visit to personally hand you and Kenma the wedding invite.” 

“I’m touched.” Kuroo set his glass of orange juice down and paced around his kitchen. “When is this happening?” 

“I’ll probably come by within the next few months,” Yaku said. “And when I come, we’re going out for drinks and get you laid!”

Kuroo laughed. “Wow, Yaku, I’m flattered you’re going to cheat on your fiancée with me, but I’m not the type to be the other woman.”

He heard Yaku scoff. “When was the last time you actually went out to have fun?”

“Every single time I go pet the stray cats at the nearby temple. And I’m flattered by your concern over my sex life and potency, but I’m not interested in fucking around.” He paused. “Although, I’m equally as glad that we can still talk about this after how many years.”

“You’re still my best worst buddy,” Yaku said. “We’ll catch up some more when I get there, alright?”

“I’ll do my best to make up some wild stories for you in the meantime.” Kuroo smiled.

“It was nice hearing from you. I’ll call up Kenma next.”

“Alright. See you soon.”

“See you!”

Yaku hung up and Kuroo placed his phone back on the table next to his plate of unfinished sunny side ups. He sighed; he just couldn’t believe what he had just heard. With a huff, he fetched his laptop and opened a chat box with another former teammate.

 **Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Hey Kai  
**Kai Nobuyuki >> **Kuroo! It’s been long. How’ve you been? :)

 

 _Still as pleasant as ever_ , Kuroo thought about Kai with a smile.

 

 **Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Same old same old  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Can’t believe yaku’s getting married  
**Kai Nobuyuki >> **I know haha how old are we??  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Old enough to be baby daddies. Have you met the girl?  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Or guy, i don’t want to assume  
**Kai Nobuyuki >> **Haha  
**Kai Nobuyuki >> **Yeah i have. She’s great  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Okay i’ve been dying to know  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Who’s taller  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **The mystery fiancee or yaku  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **???  
**Kai Nobuyuki >> **Would you believe it?  
**Kai Nobuyuki >> **His fiancee’s taller  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **HAH  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Knew it

 

Kuroo shook his head, smirking.

 

 **Kai Nobuyuki >> **Haha be careful not to point that out tho  
**Kai Nobuyuki >> **Anyway gotta go. It was nice talking to you again! Hope to see you soon :)  
**Kuroo Tetsurou >> **Same here. See ya

 

And just like that, Kuroo was left alone with his thoughts once again. “It was nice hearing from you,” Yaku and Kai had both told him. Had he been this out of touch for so long? It made him feel a little guilty; the once reliable captain had stayed out of sight and out of mind for years following High School, never bothering to drop a message every once in a while.

But Kuroo figured it was a force of habit. He had been used to people leaving, had been used to letting them leave, had been used to forgetting them altogether.

He stopped at the thought and groaned. No, he wasn’t about to let a little reminiscing get him down. He had other things to worry about, after all.

 

 

 

The following night, Kuroo found Tsukishima again by the riverside with the budding cherry blossom trees. He slowly walked up to him and greeted him. “Hey.”

Tsukishima looked up at him. “Hello.”

Kuroo sat down on the grass, a foot length away from Tsukishima. “Sorry about yesterday.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “Yesterday?”

“About what I said.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Really?” Kuroo laughed weakly. “Because I honestly didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t.”

A few seconds of silence.

“I thought you’d be awkward.”

“What for? There’s no reason to get so worked up about it.” Tsukishima glanced at Kuroo, then gave a small laugh. “That descriptor gets thrown around in daily language. It isn’t to be taken so maliciously.”

Kuroo frowned. “Whoa, that’s pretty deep.”

A few more seconds of silence.

Tsukishima said, slowly, “I’m a writer.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“That’s what I do. I’m a writer.”

“Oh.” Kuroo gestured to the book Tsukishima was holding between his palms. “Is that why you’re always holding that book of yours? Because my favorite part was when the prince turns into a frog and gets dissected by biology students.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “It’s a book of poems.”

“Ah,” Kuroo nodded, somewhat pleased to have finally found out what the book was about. “So, Tsukishima-kun does poetry.”

“No,” Tsukishima breathes out. “I just admire how so much can be said with just a few sentences.”

Kuroo glanced at Tsukishima and then at the book. He held out his palm, and Tsukishima handed it over. Kuroo thumbed through the pages. “Which one’s your favorite?”

Tsukishima momentarily retrieved the book to flip through the pages, stopping at one that was dog-eared before showing it to Kuroo.

Kuroo stared at the page with a curious expression. “It’s in English.”

“You can’t read it?”

“No, I can. I was just surprised.” Kuroo wiped his eyes and began to read the poem.

 

 **_Horses At Midnight Without A Moon_ ** _  
by Jack Gilbert_

  
Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.  
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.  
But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down  
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.  
The summer mornings begin inch by inch  
while we sleep, and walk with us later  
as long-legged beauty through  
the dirty streets. It is no surprise  
that danger and suffering surround us.  
What astonishes is the singing.  
We know the horses are there in the dark  
meadow because we can smell them,  
can hear them breathing.  
Our spirit persists like a man struggling  
through the frozen valley  
who suddenly smells flowers  
and realizes the snow is melting  
out of sight on top of the mountain,  
knows that spring has begun.

 

Wordlessly, Kuroo handed back the book.

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t get it, did you?”

“I did!” Kuroo said, defensively. “It’s about ghost horses.”

They stared at each other, until Kuroo gave in and started laughing. “Okay, I’m kidding. But I really did like it. But I didn’t take you as a fan of inspirational quotes, either.”

“Yeah.” Tsukishima stared at his book. “But I’m trying.”

“Trying?”

“Trying to find my own music.”

 

 

 

It was 2 P.M. on a Sunday when Kenma called Kuroo to ask if he could come over. His mom was having friends over for dinner and he couldn’t handle that much attention and social interaction with middle-aged ladies. Kuroo, after some light teasing, told Kenma that he was always welcome at his lonely apartment.

It didn’t take too long for Kenma to arrive at Kuroo’s doorstep, his game consoles and laptop on hand.

“Usually, when best friends hang out, they’re supposed to play games together not pretend the other doesn’t exist,” Kuroo said after half an hour of watching Kenma silently play Dragon Quest Heroes II.

Kenma, after a few seconds, muttered, “Sorry, did you say something?”

Kuroo slumped his shoulders. “Nope.”

A pause. “How are your dreams?”

“Same as always.”

“You still see him?”

“Tsukishima-kun? Yeah.”

As soon as Kuroo replied, Kenma paused the game. “He has a name?”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention it to you.”

“You named him?”

“No, that’s really his name.”

“And you found him in real life.”

“No, I haven’t.” Kuroo sighed. “But it’s okay. He’s become good company, actually.”

Kenma stared at Kuroo. Kuroo could say that he was used to such looks from his childhood friend, but at that particular moment, he felt as though he was being closely scrutinized. Unnerved, he said, “What’s with that face?”

“Kuroo,” Kenma said slowly, “I’m saying this because you’re my friend and I genuinely worry about you.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes. “Okay…”

“So… maybe we should get a consultation with a psychiatrist.”

“Wait, what?”

“I could ask my mom if she knows anyone—”

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. I swear. I’m not turning crazy. Trust me.”

Kenma kept his gaze. Eventually, he nodded his head. “Just letting you know.”

“Okay. Thank you. But no.”

“Alright.”

And Kenma resumed his game, returning to his own world while Kuroo stood from the couch and walked out the door to get a breath of fresh air. And that was the last time Kuroo ever spoke to Kenma about The Dream.

 

 

 

It was 10 A.M. on a Monday when Kuroo made a stopover to a bookstore by the main street. He had just happened to be near the city center and wanted to spend an hour browsing the books and checking whether his favorite _manga_ had new volumes out or not. He absentmindedly brushed his fingers along the spines of books that lined the shelves as he strolled through the aisles. He stopped when he realized he’d gone to the poetry section. He blinked and shook his head in disbelief. It took him a while but he found the last remaining copy of the little black book of poems Tsukishima had shown to him. He stared at it, flipped through the pages, and read the poem again.

 _Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods._  
_Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt._  
_But there's music in us._

“I’m still trying to find my own music,” he remembered Tsukishima saying. He wondered what that had meant.

And before he knew it, he was lining up for the cash register to buy the book.

 

 

 

It took Kuroo 5 whole minutes to realize he had been staring at the strawberry shortcake put out on display from the window of a bakeshop on his way home from work.

 

 

 

“Tsukishima-kun,” Kuroo whined. They were seated by the long staircase going up to a shrine on a hill and eating _melonpan_. Tsukishima glanced at Kuroo.

“Your name is so long,” Kuroo said. “Don’t you have a nickname?”

Tsukishima said, deadpanned, “No, I don’t.”

“I’ll give you one.”

“No.”

Kuroo pouted his lips. “Tsukishima… Ah! I’ll call you Tsukki.”

Tsukishima grunted. “Don’t call me that.”

Kuroo sat beside him, took a deep breath, and said, “Tsuuuuukkiiiii—agh!”

Tsukishima watched with a sly grin as Kuroo chased his fallen _melonpan_ down the stairs.

 

 

 

It took Kuroo 5 whole minutes to realize he had been scowling at the strawberry shortcake put out on display from the window of a bakeshop on his way to work.

 

 

 

Bokuto was munching away sloppily on his bowl of _katsudon_ in a way that made Yamamoto retch.

“Oh, come on.” He pushed a glass of water towards Bokuto. “There’s a lady in our midst!”

Saeko, who was beside him, laughed. “You guys are a riot. We should have lunch out more often.”

“If you give us a raise, then we would,” Kuroo chortled.

“Forget it then.”

The three men slumped their shoulders.

“If you want a raise, you’d have to come in everyday,” Saeko snorted. “You boys should be thankful you only come in a few days in a week!”

And it was true; Kuroo was kind of thankful that his work schedule wasn’t like that of most. He and Bokuto only came in Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, with Yamamoto and Saeko taking the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday shift. They each earned comparably less, of course, but it allowed for leisure time and other commitments. Yamamoto however was the only one in the group who had a second job at a convenience store during his off days. Bokuto lived the high life, while Kuroo lived simply.

Yamamoto looked at Saeko. “Saeko-neechan, you should ask Ryuu to come work for you. We could start offering boxing classes.”

Saeko sneered. “I’m not paying that guy to wreck my hard work until he gets his shit together first.”

Bokuto gave out a loud burp and slammed his empty bowl on the table. Kuroo snickered, “And you wonder why ladies never say yes to a second date with you.”

“I’ve learned that if they don’t accept me for who I am, then it’s their loss,” Bokuto said. “I’m such a cool guy!”

Saeko laughed. “Your charisma overwhelms them.”

“I’m way more handsome than Yamamoto over there.”

“If you are, then why am I the one with a girlfriend?” Yamamoto stuck his tongue out.

Bokuto grunted and nudged Kuroo. “Back me up, bro!”

Kuroo looked at him with a serious expression. “You’re very attractive, bro. I would make out with you. No homo.”

“No homo, bro.”

They shared a side hug.

“Wow,” Saeko mused. “How will I ever find love like that.”

Yamamoto smirked. “Before you hit 30? I wonder too.”

A ruckus ensued, ending in a broken plate, Yamamoto in a headlock, Saeko kneeling on the table, Bokuto slamming his fists, and Kuroo hiding his face from terrified customers.

 

 

 

Bokuto and Kuroo strolled through the streets after the Lunch Incident. They had wanted to get soft serve for dessert, but ended up heading towards the park. Strangely, Bokuto hadn’t said a word since they parted from Saeko and Yamamoto, but Kuroo wasn’t one to prod until they reached their destination. He figured that if Bokuto wanted to talk, he would. And if he stayed silent, Kuroo should let him be so.

When they arrived at the playground, there were only a couple of kids playing at the jungle gym. Bokuto sat on the seesaw and challenged Kuroo to a “Seesaw Off.” Kuroo stared at him, bewildered, but relented.

“Okay, fine.” He took the opposite seat, and went as high and as low as their long legs and the tiny seesaw could take them.

Bokuto said, “Kuroo, can I tell you something?”

Kuroo blinked. “Sure.”

“You’re my best bro.”

“You’re my best bro, too.”

“Thanks. But that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Okay. Then just say it.”

Kuroo watched Bokuto writhe on his seat and chew on his bottom lip. “I…” Bokuto finally said. “...have a crush on someone.”

Kuroo wanted to laugh, but didn’t.

“It’s a guy.”

Kuroo stopped the seesaw. Bokuto stared at him with nervous eyes.

Kuroo shook his head. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.” He got off his seat and walked towards Bokuto. “Is it someone I know?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said slowly. “You’ve met him a couple of times.”

“And?”

“It’s Akaashi.”

Kuroo’s mouth hung. “The doctor?”

“The one and only.”

Kuroo patted Bokuto’s shoulder and beckoned him to sit on the bench. When they both have taken their seats, Kuroo asked, “How long have you been waiting to tell me this?”

Bokuto shrugged. “Just a few weeks. I was kind of scared of how you’d react.”

“You know I accept you for who you are. It shouldn’t be a bother if you like guys.”

This made Bokuto smile. “You really are the best bro.”

Kuroo returned the smile. “I appreciate the honesty. You can trust me with anything, you know.”

“It’s just weird,” Bokuto sighed. “It’s like whenever I’m around Akaashi, everything just spins. And then it stops, then spins again. And he’s always there to listen to me, you know? Okay, sometimes he starts ignoring me but it’s when I start to ramble because he’s just so great to talk to that my chest starts hurting.”

Kuroo grinned at how Bokuto continued to talk about how he felt. It certainly was a different side of Bokuto that he was seeing. He wasn’t used to it, but it was pleasant to witness anyway.

Bokuto turned to him. “Have you ever felt that, Kuroo? Having known loneliness for all your life, then meeting someone who feels like home?”

He laughed softly. “I don’t think so, but it sounds like a great thing to feel.”

Bokuto beamed. “It really is.”

And Kuroo listened to Bokuto talk, cry, and laugh until the sun went down.

 

 

 

Tsukishima had been deliberately ignoring Kuroo for the past 10 minutes of Kuroo calling him by his new nickname.

“I never gave you permission to call me that,” was all he said when Kuroo wouldn’t stop nagging him.

“Come on, Tsukki,” Kuroo whined. “I grabbed the volleyball stowed in my closet at home. Let’s play!”

Tsukishima glared at the ball, then at Kuroo. “Fine.”

They head to the very same playground where Bokuto had just confessed to Kuroo and started passing the ball to each other with underhand receives.

“What got you into volleyball, Tsukki?” Kuroo asked.

“My older brother,” he replied. “Taught me most things that got me started.”

“You have a brother? That’s nice. Is he as crass as you?”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “He’s...okay.”

His hesitation piqued Kuroo’s curiosity. “Are you not in good terms with him?”

“We are, kind of,” Tsukishima murmured. “We just haven’t seen each other in so long.”

Kuroo hummed in understanding. “Well, you’re still lucky. I don’t have any siblings at all. So it had been a lonely childhood. That’s why I make friends in every opportunity I get.”

Tsukishima raised his eyebrow. “Did you pester them to no end just to make them your friends too?”

Kuroo feigned offense. “I’m wounded by your words, Tsukki.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Get this!”

Instead of receiving the ball from Tsukishima, he caught it with both his hands, tossed it in the air, and gave it a spike. The ball flew towards Tsukishima and ricocheted off his arms with a loud slam.

Tsukishima fell backwards, scowling at Kuroo who grinned at him smugly in return.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Tsukishima seethed.

“What, are you backing down from a challenge?”

“What world do you live in where one-on-one volleyball is a thing?”

“Please, Tsukki!” Kuroo almost sounded as if he was pleading. “I haven’t had this much fun in a while.”

Tsukishima sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’.” Kuroo walked towards Tsukishima and held out his hand. The blond shot Kuroo one last glare before taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled back up to his feet.

They play volleyball for as long as their arms and legs could take them—about 20 minutes or so, thanks to their age and lowered stamina and, on Tsukishima’s part, impaired reflexes. They rested on the bench, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off their foreheads.

“That was fun,” Kuroo said.

“You’ve said that four times now.”

“I can’t help it.” Kuroo was beaming. “Too bad I can’t do this in real life.”

Tsukishima glanced at him. “Why not? I thought you had friends.”

Kuroo sighed. “All my teammates transferred out of this town. They have their own lives now. One of them is getting hitched, can you believe it?”

Tsukishima wiped the fog off his glasses. “Why did you stay here then?”

The question caught Kuroo off guard. He was no stranger to the query, but having heard it from Tsukishima was something he didn’t expect. For a while, he forgot his answer, and stared off into space.

Tsukishima knitted his eyebrows and nudged Kuroo’s shoulder with his own.

“Oh,” Kuroo said. “Sorry, what?”

“My question,” Tsukishima answered simply.

Kuroo rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I stayed because I wasn’t convinced that I would find what I’m looking for out there, in foreign cities. I thought it would be better if I just stayed where I was, where I was comfortable. I thought that if I waited long enough, that one thing I would have been waiting for would come.”

He laughed. “Stupid of me, right? But I like it here. I make good friends every day. And I love the riverside with the cherry blossom trees too much to leave it.”

Tsukishima shrugged. “There are cherry blossom trees everywhere else.”

Kuroo smiled. “But not like the ones here.”

There is a brief quiet before Tsukishima spoke up. “If you don’t mind my asking, Kuroo-san, what are you waiting for?”

Kuroo grinned at him in spite of himself. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.”

“Then how would you know that it’s come?”

“Well,” he stretched his arms to the sky, “maybe when I feel like there’s nothing more to wait for.”

Tsukishima stared at him before turning his gaze to the ground.

“I know, it sounds crazy,” Kuroo said.

“No,” Tsukishima replied. “I understand perfectly.”

There is sadness to Tsukishima’s voice, but Kuroo refused to pry. Instead, he stood and said, “Let’s go.”

He hadn’t been aware that he was holding out his hand until Tsukishima firmly held it, pushing himself off the bench. Kuroo led him to the quiet neighborhood café he and Kenma once ate in and took a seat on the table in the corner. Kuroo had been the one to place an order to the faceless cashier. It had never really dawned on him how the rest of the people in The Dream either had faces that morphed every second that Kuroo stared, or—like this cashier—lacked a face altogether.

After placing an order, he hopped back to Tsukishima and sat across him. Tsukishima asked, “I wonder if the caffeine you consume here has an effect on you in real life.”

Kuroo laughed. “You know, I sometimes forget this is a dream.”

Tsukishima glanced at the cashier, then at the other customers. “You see those and you still forget?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I hang out with you all the time. That makes this dream real enough.”

Tsukishima opened his mouth to probably give a snide remark, but he was cut off by the waitress who placed two cups of coffee and a plate of a slice of strawberry shortcake on the table. Kuroo watched Tsukishima’s eyes glisten, and cooed. “You should look at the face you’re making.”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, but instantly grabbed a fork. “What’s all this for?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Kuroo honestly didn’t know why he bought the cake for Tsukishima. “I felt like it.”

The reasoning was good enough for Tsukishima, though, because in just a few seconds he started to take bits and pieces of the cake and shovel them in his mouth in satisfaction. Kuroo was amused; he’d never seen Tsukishima look sincerely content with anything else.

Tsukishima looked at him and frowned. “Get that shit-eating grin off your face and get some.” He gestured to the cake with his fork.

Kuroo leaned on his hand. “No, you can have it all.”

“Why?”

“Because you like it so much.” Kuroo cocked his head. “Besides, I can get one in real life.”

“That’s true.”

Tsukishima silently finished the slice of cake. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater, and said, “Thanks.”

Kuroo clutched his chest. “Holy shit, I never thought you’d say something so kind.”

“I take it back,” Tsukishima said deadpanned. He scraped the remaining icing on the plate and licked his fork clean.

“Would you like another slice?” Kuroo chuckled as Tsukishima looked at him, bemused. “Relax, it’s not like I’m losing money here either.”

“Uh,” Tsukishima glanced at the cake display. “Okay.”

Kuroo ordered another slice of strawberry shortcake, and this time he indulged in a few bites. Tsukishima was quiet the entire time he ate, only letting a few satisfied moans escape his lips. Strangely enough, the sound made Kuroo’s body twitch, and he suddenly lifted an arm to wipe off the cream that somehow made its way down to Tsukishima’s chin. “You’re like a kid,” he said when his eyes met with Tsukishima’s inquisitive ones.

After they ate, they strolled down the streets and headed for the riverside.

“I haven’t had strawberry shortcake in a while,” Tsukishima said.

“How long a while?”

Tsukishima pouted. “A year, at least?”

Kuroo cocked his head to the side. “I thought it was your favorite food.”

“I just never had the time to actually...go out and eat some.”

“Why, busy with your next literary masterpiece?” Kuroo snickered, bumping his shoulder against Tsukishima’s.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “No.”

It didn’t seem as though Tsukishima would continue off from his answer, so Kuroo said, “Well, I’m glad you liked our date then.”

Tsukishima stopped walking and raised an eyebrow. Kuroo thought Tsukishima would retort furiously, but all he said was, “Your concept of a date is puzzling.”

“Why is that?"

“You started it off with a volleyball match.” Tsukishima continued on walking, and Kuroo followed him from behind, chuckling to himself.

They reached the riverside and sat at their favorite spot—or, as Kuroo noted, the spot they just happen to gravitate towards every time. The trees were still budding.

It was Tsukishima’s turn to notice Kuroo staring lovingly at the sight. “Why do you like this riverside so much?”

“Ah,” Kuroo smirked. “It’s just really beautiful when the cherry blossoms bloom.”

“You seem to be overly fond of this particular part of town.”

Kuroo’s expression turned serious. “When I was younger, my parents would bring me here and we’d view the cherry blossoms together. It happened, unfailingly, for years.” He lied on the grass and closed his eyes. “When they started becoming busier, I’d go ahead and leave them a note to tell them where I was. They’d show up eventually and we’d view the cherry blossoms together, like we always have.”

Tsukishima lied down beside him and listened.

“Eventually, they stop coming. Or, just one of them comes. I was in middle school when they filed for a divorce. Neither of them brought me to view the cherry blossoms again since.” Kuroo sighed. “I still come here, though. I come here on most days, checking if the trees have begun to bud even though I know they won’t.”

Kuroo opened his eyes and looked at the budding trees. “And even in this dream, even though they’re like that, I’m still waiting. And waiting. Waiting, like I always have.”

Tsukishima chimed in, “Doesn’t waiting ever get tiring for you?”

Kuroo thought about it and shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes the victory over finally getting what I’ve been waiting for much, much sweeter.”

“You don’t know what you’re waiting for though.”

“No, I don’t.” Kuroo rolled on his side to face Tsukishima. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told this to. Congratulations.”

Tsukishima likewise turned his head to face Kuroo. “I’m not sure what to make of that supposed compliment.”

“I guess it really means that we’re friends.”

Tsukishima bit his lip.

“Right?” Kuroo pressed.

“Yeah,” Tsukishima whispered. “We are.” A small smile escaped his lips, and the image had stayed in Kuroo’s mind for the rest of his waking days.

 

 

 

He meant it when he said that he didn’t mind The Dream anymore. Hanging out with Tsukishima turned out to be the highlight of his otherwise dreary, routinary days because every night was different. Sometimes, they’d do random things to pass time; and on other days, they’d just lie on the grass by the riverside and talk. It didn’t take long for Kuroo to realize that Tsukishima was turning out to be more of a friend to him than Kenma or Bokuto have been. Kuroo would rattle off with stories about his life that he’d feel like talking to Tsukishima about—like his childhood, his team, his college life, weird encounters with students—and he wouldn’t be too embarrassed of being judged (because he already was aware of and used to Tsukishima’s judgmental attitude). But most of the time, Tsukishima would listen, give side-comments, and laugh along. On some days, Kuroo would successfully make Tsukishima talk about his life too, but he couldn’t help but feel that parts were intentionally being kept hidden from him. He’d say, “You’re so secretive sometimes, Tsukki. You can tell me anything.” But all Tsukishima would say is, “I’m not going to divulge sensitive information to a man I’ve just met.”

“I thought you already considered me as a friend.”

Tsukishima would smirk. “I would say that I do hate you less.”

Kuroo would never know why he would genuinely grin at that comment.

 

 

 

It was already the beginning of March when Kuroo discovered the crack in his system. Tsukishima had dozed off while they were seated on an admittedly comfy couch that someone had decided to leave out in the open for anyone to take home.

The breeze was nice and cool, and the peacefulness of it all made Tsukishima’s eyes droop. He was snoring quietly, his head resting on Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo could feel his body becoming numb from the weight on his left side, but he refused to budge in fear of waking Tsukishima up. The thought made Kuroo laugh; if one of them slept in a dream, would they dream of something else too? A dream within a dream. Kuroo should try it once.

He listened to the steady breathing of the man beside him. It was calming, and he had never seen Tsukishima look so at peace.

Instinctively, he lightly brushed his hand against Tsukishima’s, and the contact made him shiver. He traced Tsukishima’s open palm with his fingers, drawing circles and shapes until he rested them between Tsukishima’s own fingers.

Tsukishima woke up from his nap briefly, and he tightened his grip, not realizing the presence of hand that was holding onto his. He glanced at their hands, then at Kuroo who was watching him. “Sorry,” Tsukishima croaked. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

“It’s okay,” Kuroo responded just as quietly.

Tsukishima wiped his eyes, his drool, then rested his head on Kuroo’s shoulders once again. “It’s kind of cold.”

Almost instantly, Kuroo released his grip and put his arm around Tsukishima’s shoulders. Tsukishima adjusted his angle and rested his head on Kuroo’s chest, his recently freed hand on Kuroo’s knee. It only took a matter of seconds for Tsukishima to fall back to sleep.

Kuroo pursed his lips. He could feel his chest tighten and his stomach churn simultaneously, and all he wanted to do was vomit his insides. He felt like he was falling, and maybe he was.

But not in the way that he wanted to be.

 

 

 

Kuroo started to look forward to sleeping. He would wake up in cold sweat, impatiently get through the day, then get to bed as early as 6. Sometimes, he’d have trouble sleeping, tossing and turning on his mattress while clutching his chest. He eventually ran to the pharmacy and bought a bottle of sleeping pills to help him.

He knew he was in too deep. He didn’t even know if Tsukishima was a real person, or a spirit, or a mere figment of his imagination. But it didn’t matter because when he was dreaming, nothing else but Tsukishima mattered.

Kuroo lived for the little gestures of physical intimacy. The light grazes of their hands. Their shoulders bumping into each other’s when all Kuroo wanted to do was embrace him. Kuroo stealing Tsukishima’s glasses and playing with them, then placing them back on Tsukishima’s angry face that he would subtly caress.

Kuroo had even lied to Kenma about not having The Dream anymore. Kenma believed him, or at least believed what he wanted to believe.

But Bokuto wasn’t as easy to convince. “You’re late again,” he’d tell Kuroo. Kuroo would wave him off dismissively. “Sorry, just been having a difficult time waking up with my alarms.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, Kuroo noted, because he _was_ waking up later than usual. But it never fazed him. He was having longer nights with Tsukishima, and it was all that mattered to him.

“Maybe I should come by every morning and pick you up,” Bokuto offered.

Kuroo shrugged. “Sure.” Looks like he’d have to get to bed even earlier.

 

 

 

Kuroo didn’t know many pills he drank. But there he was, in The Dream, holding a rubber band and a handful of tic-tacs, hiding behind one aisle of a 100-yen store. He placed a tic-tac on his makeshift slingshot and peered past his hiding spot. Suddenly, Tsukishima appeared from a couple of aisles down and catapulted a jellybean to Kuroo’s forehead.

Kuroo fell back wincing and said, “Okay, I’m down! That’s 15 to 9. You win!”

Tsukishima emerged from the shelf and walked towards Kuroo, smirking. “Loser,” he said.

Kuroo threw a tic-tac at him lamely.

Tsukishima held out his hand and Kuroo grabbed it almost too enthusiastically and got up to his feet. They left the mess on the floor and exited the store without caring much about what these Dream Citizens would trip or slip from at the stationery goods department.

Tsukishima had a small smile on his face, and Kuroo laughed. “You’re looking very pleased to have defeated me.”

“I’m quite pleased that I kicked your ass after you were oh so confident in your stealth and aim, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima answered.

Kuroo grimaced. “Remind me not to challenge you to one of those things again. That last one really hurt.”

“You’re going to cry now?” Tsukishima teased. Kuroo rolled his eyes, feeling his face warm up. “Perhaps I will.”

Tsukishima laughed. “Weak shit,” he murmured.

Kuroo did a double take, mildly offended, then broke into laughter. “You’re in a really good mood today.”

Tsukishima offered a small smile. “It’s been a while since I had fun with someone.” He paused. “It’s been a _really_ long while since I had interacted with anyone, actually.”

“If you weren’t so sour and ill-mannered, maybe people would like you,” Kuroo joked.

He saw Tsukishima wince, and the positive atmosphere that was once there dissipated as quickly as it came. Kuroo took a sharp intake of air, and grabbed Tsukishima’s hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Tsukishima looked away. “It’s fine.”

Kuroo flinched. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s kind of true, though.”

“Not for me,” Kuroo sighed. “I’d still want to be your friend even with your...accommodating attitude.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “Accommodating attitude?”

“I didn’t know what else to call it.”

It worked, though, because Tsukishima was shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, sure.”

It didn’t cross either of their minds that they were still holding hands.

“Kuroo-san,” he said, “you’ve been here for a long time now.”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows.

“Your dreams usually don’t take this long.”

“I’ve been—” Kuroo bit back his tongue. “But isn’t that nicer? I like spending time with you."

“Why?”

Kuroo hadn’t been prepared for a surprise interrogation. His hand twitched against Tsukishima’s, and so did his lips, unsure of what to reply. Tsukishima was staring at him expectantly.

“I just do.” _What kind of answer was that_ , Kuroo chastised himself.

Tsukishima blinked. “You’re not even sure if I’m real or not.”

“I know.”

“You’re not even sure if what you’re feeling is real.”

Kuroo stepped back. “It’s…” He paused. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know why his chest was hurting, why his stomach was churning, why his hands were shaking.

And suddenly, the sky dimmed and rain started to pour, heavily, on the town.

“Shit,” Tsukishima seethed, pulling Kuroo’s arm as he dashed past stores and houses towards a two-storey apartment. He quickly swung the door open and walked inside, closing it after Kuroo entered.

They were drenched and dripping wet. Tsukishima took off his shoes and said, “I’ll get you some clothes.”

Kuroo hadn’t realized what had just happened. He wiped his face with his hands, his chest still hurting, and took off his own shoes. Tsukishima emerged after a while in a fresh set of clothes carrying a dry towel and clean clothes for Kuroo. He handed them to him.

“Thank you,” Kuroo murmured.

“Uh,” Tsukishima scanned his apartment sheepishly. “Tea? Or…”

Kuroo shivered. “Hot chocolate?”

Tsukishima grimaced. “Really?”

“What?"

“You’re like a kid.” Tsukishima walked off to the kitchen. “Hurry up and change already.”

Kuroo clicked his tongue. In spite of himself, he said, “You’re not going to watch?”

Tsukishima ignored him. “And don’t touch anything.”

Kuroo took his clothes off, dropped them off on the plastic hamper that Tsukishima dragged over to the door when he came with the dry clothes, and changed. He was wearing a black shirt with a green outline of a dinosaur and a comfy pair of grey sweats. He walked around Tsukishima’s apartment, taking in every detail. It was small but tidy, with just a few papers scattered all around his coffee table. There were curtains on the wall concealing a glass window, and Kuroo drew them open to take in the view.

Tsukishima carried two mugs of hot chocolate from the kitchen to where Kuroo was, seated on the floor and staring out the window.

“There’s not much to see,” Tsukishima noted, handing Kuroo one mug as he sat across him on the floor.

Kuroo watched Tsukishima. He watched him draw his knees close to his chest. He watched him blow the steam from his mug. He watched him frown at his fogged up glasses. He wanted to scream, wanted to ask him why. Why did he appear in his dream? Why did he refuse to leave? Why did he make every night seem much more interesting than the days?

Who exactly was Tsukishima?

“You look like you want to hit me.”

Kuroo blinked. “Huh?”

Tsukishima shook his head. “Nothing.”

They took a sip of their hot chocolate. The rain continued to pour outside, hitting the glass window as though it wanted to barge in to disturb the awkward silence that emanated from where the two were.

“Don’t come looking for me here in real life,” Tsukishima suddenly said quietly.

Kuroo almost choked on his drink. “What do you mean?”

Tsukishima looked askance. His lips were pursed.

“Tsukki,” Kuroo said, “what do you mean?”

“You just might not like what you’ll see.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Kuroo’s blood was boiling. “Are you saying you’re real?”

Tsukishima took a moment, then nodded slowly.

Kuroo didn’t know what to feel. He was shocked, relieved, furious, and happy all at the same time. It made his head spin.

“I’ve tried looking for you,” he said. “I couldn’t. What’s your whole name?”

“Tsukishima Kei.”

“Kei,” Kuroo found himself saying. “I’ll come find you.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? What are you hiding from me all this time?”

“Please don’t make me say anything more.”

Tsukishima’s voice sounded broken, and his eyes were watering. Kuroo stared at him in confusion. He took a deep breath, relaxed, and placed a hand on Tsukishima’s face. “I’m sorry.” He gulped. “But I need to find you.”

Tsukishima gazed at him, a mix of unreadable emotions showing on his face.

“Tsukki, I think,” Kuroo said slowly, “I may be…”

 

 

 

And in an instant, Tsukishima was gone, and Kuroo’s body was being shaken awake by a frazzled Bokuto. “Kuroo!” he screamed. “Wake up!”

“What the fuck?” Kuroo croaked.

“What were you thinking?” Bokuto said, tears welling up in his eyes. “How many sleeping pills did you fucking take?”

Kuroo stared at Bokuto then at the pill bottle on his bedside table.

“I need…” Kuroo murmured. “I need to find Tsukishima…”

Bokuto stared at him in disbelief. “Tsukishima?” He was practically screaming. “That guy in your dream that Kenma told me about?”

“He did...what?”

Bokuto spun around, still clutching tight on Kuroo’s arms. “Akaashi!”

Akaashi emerged from the doorway of Kuroo’s bedroom and said, “I already gave the call. Let’s carry him to the car.”

Kuroo struggled and tried to put up a fight, but Bokuto was too strong and Kuroo was too weak to remember his self-defense moves. He was strapped in the front of what seemed to be Akaashi’s car and Bokuto took the back seat to put added restraint on Kuroo’s body.

They drove off to the city in silence, not even minding Kuroo’s protests. “But, Tsukki—”

“Kuroo, please,” Bokuto pleaded.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.”

No one said anything to that. They arrived at the driveway of a hospital.

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said as he pulled the hand break, “we’re taking you to see a psychiatrist.”

“For what?”

Akaashi and Bokuto looked at each other.

“We just think it’s best for you to see one right now.”

Kuroo stared at them aghast. His head was hurting.

They take him up the elevator and to an ominous looking room. A man eventually emerges from the door and shakes Akaashi’s hand. “It’s great to meet you all,” he said.

“Sugawara-san,” Akaashi said, gesturing to Kuroo. “This is Kuroo.”

Sugawara smiled and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Kuroo-kun.” Kuroo stared at the hand.

“Doc,” Bokuto sighed. “Sorry for coming in like this all of a sudden.”

“It’s no trouble.” Sugawara looked at Kuroo. “Let’s come inside.”

Akaashi and Bokuto finally released Kuroo who, before following Sugawara inside the office, threw a punch on Bokuto’s arm.

“Ouch!”

“That’s for dragging me out here without a proper explanation, you dick.”

Kuroo huffed and closed the door behind him, dropping on the leather couch beside where Sugawara was seated.

Sugawara was jotting down a few things on his clipboard. He asked Kuroo for a few personal details, and Kuroo gave them all willingly.

“So,” Sugawara said, clicking his pen. “What brings you here today?”

“Those two literally dragged my ass here,” Kuroo replied tersely.

“Why do you think they did that?”

“Because Bokuto’s an asshole.” Okay, maybe Kuroo’s words were a bit harsh, and he probably hurt Bokuto’s feelings for calling him a dick, but he’s not in the mood at that particular moment to feel guilty over it.

Sugawara shifted on his seat. “They told me you tried overdosing on sleeping pills.”

“I didn’t.” At least, Kuroo thought he didn’t. He wouldn’t. “I just had a hard time sleeping lately, so I bought those pills.”

Sugawara smiled. “Sleep really is a good thing. It’s when you’re most at peace, escaping from the intricacies of reality.”

Kuroo blinked. Sugawara’s voice was calming, and his smile and demeanor even more so. Kuroo slowly felt himself relax. Perhaps confiding in a person who isn’t about to judge anyone upfront seemed like a good idea.

So Kuroo began to talk. He talked about The Dream, he talked about what has happened, and, most importantly, he talked about Tsukishima. How he felt, how he made him feel, how he’s sure Tsukishima was a real person that he needed to find.

Sugawara only listened, never stopping to write on his clipboard or look through his medical books. Sugawara seemed interested in what Kuroo was saying, and that alone made Kuroo let his guard down even more.

When Kuroo was done, Sugawara leaned in close. “Sorry for asking this just now but what did you say his name was?”

Kuroo let the name roll off his tongue. “Tsukishima Kei.”

It was the way Sugawara placed a finger on his lips that Kuroo’s confidence began to falter. “I’ll be right back,” he told Kuroo.

After a little over 5 minutes, Sugawara came back inside the room and beckoned Kuroo to come with him.

Neither of them said anything when they go down a floor and walk to the patient’s ward. With every step, Kuroo felt his heart sink further. But he followed Sugawara until he stopped in front of a closed door. Sugawara looked at him, smiled, then knocked gently.

A man answered, swiftly swinging the door open. “Yes?” he said.

“Good morning, Akiteru-san” Sugawara said. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

“It’s not a problem, doctor. How may I help you?”

Sugawara nudged Kuroo. “Your brother has a visitor.”

Akiteru seemed surprised, but allowed Kuroo to enter the room anyway. Confused, Kuroo walked inside, examining the room. When his eyes fell on the bed in the middle, his eyes widened and his mouth hung. He stared at the body that was lying, almost lifeless, on the hospital bed and attached to a ventilator. The body was tall, thin, and had short blond hair.

His voice croaked, “Tsukki?”

 

 

 

Kuroo came across a poem in the book he bought once. It was from the same poet that Tsukishima had introduced to him. It read,

 

 _Of course it was a disaster._  
_That unbearable, dearest secret_  
_has always been a disaster._  
_The danger when we try to leave._  
_Going over and over afterward_  
_what we should have done_  
_instead of what we did._  
_But for those short times_  
_we seemed to be alive. Misled,_  
_misused, lied to and cheated,_  
_certainly. Still, for that_  
_little while, we visited_  
_our possible life._

 

 

 

 

The door creaked open and Akiteru went inside, coffee on a styrofoam cup in hand. He approached Kuroo with a welcoming smile. “Here, you look exhausted.”

Kuroo offered a weak smile and accepted the cup. “Thank you. I’ve had better mornings.”

Akiteru grabbed another seat and dragged it to where Kuroo was, beside the lifeless Tsukishima.

“How long has he been like this?” Kuroo asked.

“February,” Akiteru answered. It was the same time Kuroo started having The Dream. “I came all the way from Osaka as soon as they called me.”

“What happened?”

“Overdose,” he said quietly. “He took in a lot of sleeping pills. Didn’t seem like an accident, either.”

Kuroo winced. He finally understood why Tsukishima didn’t want him to come find him. “Do you have any idea why he did it?”

Akiteru shrugged. “He’s always been kind of...off. He didn’t have a lot of friends. Just one—Tadashi-kun. But when they started university, Tadashi moved to America. They’d still talked, but Kei grew even more reclusive. He never was able to make other friends. The only reason why he had Tadashi in the first place was because Tadashi attached himself to Kei like a gecko, or so Kei used to tell me.”

Akiteru laughed weakly. “I thought Kei would be fine if I left him alone. He wanted to move here, but I couldn’t leave my job at Osaka. I thought he would be fine...”

A tear rolled down his face and he wiped it quickly. “I’m sorry. It just never dawned on me that Kei would be depressed. He sounded alright whenever I would call. I just…” He sobbed. “I should have been there for him.”

Kuroo watched in pain, rubbing Akiteru’s back and resisting the urge to cry along with him.

 

 

 

“When did you meet Kei?”

Akiteru had eventually calmed down and was moving Tsukishima’s limbs.

“Uhm,” Kuroo stammered. He probably shouldn’t tell Akiteru about The Dream. “I met him by the riverside, with the cherry blossom trees.”

“Oh,” Akiteru said. “Kei would tell me about that river. He likes to stay there when no one else is around. That’s why he hates it when cherry blossom season starts.”

Kuroo frowned.

“But I’m surprised you got to befriend him,” Akiteru said, bending Tsukishima’s legs next. “He didn’t chase you off with his bark and bite?”

“He tried to,” Kuroo admitted. “But I’m even more stubborn than he is.”

“That’s actually great to hear,” Akiteru said, “I think.”

“And as much as he tries to let on, he’s actually an easy guy to read.” Kuroo began to ramble. “I like being around him.”

Akiteru stared at Kuroo with a surprised expression that quickly turned into a grin. “I see.”

Kuroo could feel his face heat up. “Not in that way.”

“Really?”

“I’ve just met him.” It wasn’t a lie; Kuroo literally just met the real Tsukishima that morning.

Akiteru laughed. “Okay. Let’s just hope Kei wakes up soon.”

Kuroo’s eyes fell on Tsukishima’s body once again. “I hope so.”

 

 

 

Tsukishima tapped his foot on the ground. He tried to look everywhere else except at Kuroo’s serious face. Never, around Kuroo, has he felt so scrutinized.

“Kuroo-san,” he said, desperate to make him talk.

“Tsukki,” Kuroo murmured back.

Tsukishima waited for Kuroo to say something else, but received even more silence.

“You’ve…” Tsukishima said instead, “You’ve met my body.”

Kuroo didn’t say anything.

“Am I dead?”

“No, just asleep.”

Tsukishima looked surprised. “At the hospital?”

Kuroo nodded. “I met your brother too. He’s great.”

Tsukishima bit his lip. “He can’t pay for the hospital fees.”

Kuroo placed his hands firmly on Tsukishima’s shoulders. “You tried to kill yourself. I want to know why.”

Tsukishima looked away, scowling. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? Crippling loneliness.”

“Offing yourself isn’t the answer.”

“And running to your dreams is?”

Kuroo glared at him, then softened his expression. Getting angry at Tsukishima wasn’t going to make anything better. So he slid his arms down, and pulled Tsukishima into a tight embrace. He rested his face on Tsukishima’s shoulder, taking in his scent, and tensed at the feeling of Tsukishima’s hands traveling to his waist.

“Tsukki, you have to wake up,” Kuroo begged. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

Tsukishima stayed silent.

“I’m sorry, Tsukki, and your brother’s sorry too. He regrets ever leaving you to fend for yourself out here. I regret never finding you before all this.”

“Would you have spoken to me if you saw me?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know.” Kuroo lifted his head and looked at Tsukishima in the eye. They were a mere inch apart. “But if you woke up now, you’ll never hear the end of me.”

“Sounds annoying.”

“You’ll just have to suck it up, then.”

Tsukishima took a step back, suddenly suffocating from the closeness. He glanced away. “I don’t know how to wake myself up.”

“How did you even get here?” Kuroo asked.

“I don’t know,” Tsukishima confessed. “But I think I was on a train that stopped by the fish mart.”

Kuroo blinked. “The fish mart?” Then his face lit up in recognition. “There used to be a train track there decades ago.”

He took Tsukishima’s hand and they went to the fish mart that was a short distance off the town. They marveled at the remnants of the train track that was embedded within the concrete.

“We should wait for the train to come here,” Kuroo said, looking from left to right.

Tsukishima watched him, unsure of what to say. He squeezed Kuroo’s hand, and Kuroo swiftly glanced at him.

“I don’t know about this,” Tsukishima mumbled.

“Why not?”

He shrugged. Kuroo sighed, squeezing Tsukishima’s hand back. “You can’t keep hiding here.”

“I know that.” Tsukishima swallowed. “I’m just...terrified.”

“I’ll be with you.”

Tsukishima looked at him, agape, and Kuroo coughed, hiding the embarrassing blush he had on his face. “And, uh,” he stammered, “when you wake up, I’ll tell you something.”

Tsukishima cocked his head. “Tell me what?”

“I said when you wake up!”

“Why not now?”

“That would be unfair. Then you’d never wake up.”

Tsukishima sneered, then chuckled. “Fine. Just because I’m naturally curious.”

Kuroo held up his little finger. “Pinky swear?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m serious.”

Tsukishima hooked his little finger on Kuroo’s. Kuroo then held up his thumb. “Thumb swear.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Thumbs are the hardest to break.”

Tsukishima wanted to laugh.

“Do it.”

With a bemused grin, Tsukishima hooked his thumb on Kuroo’s as well.

“Great,” Kuroo said with a smile. “I’ll see you in real life, okay?”

“Okay.”

And suddenly, the train comes. Tsukishima gave Kuroo’s hand one last squeeze. The train stopped right in front of the fish mart, and the doors opened, beckoning Tsukishima to board it.

Kuroo slowly let go of Tsukishima and watched him enter the train. Tsukishima looked at Kuroo one last time, mouthing something Kuroo couldn’t understand. And as the train rolled off into the distance, Kuroo slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his room.

 

 

 

Kuroo was expecting a lot of things: Tsukishima looking surprised as Kuroo burst into his hospital room, Tsukishima flipping him the bird when Kuroo screams at him out of excitement, Tsukishima allowing himself to be held and maybe kissed…

But Kuroo wasn’t expecting to see Tsukishima still lifeless on the bed and Akiteru flipping through a book by his side.

“He isn’t awake?” Kuroo found himself saying.

Akiteru looked at him. “Oh, no he hasn’t.”

Kuroo swallowed hard. He thought he sent Tsukishima off. Tsukishima promised he’d wake up. Tsukishima…

 

 

 

Kuroo never had The Dream again. The moment he drifted to sleep that night, he dreamt of nothing. The next night had been the same. It was on the third night that he threw the covers off his body, put on warm clothes, then hailed a taxi to take him to the hospital.

When Kuroo entered Tsukishima’s room, Akiteru wasn’t there. He dragged the seat to Tsukishima’s side and sat. He held his hand. “Wake up,” Kuroo said. “You don’t break a pinky-thumb promise, Tsukki.”

Not a stir. Kuroo wanted to cry. He stood, leaned close to Tsukishima, and held his face on both hands. He rested his forehead on Tsukishima’s. The idea of never talking to him again, never holding his hand, never amusing each other with each other’s rudeness, never playing by the aisles of a store again hurt him. He let tears fall from his eyes down to Tsukishima’s cold face.

“Wake up,” he begged. “Wake up.”

 

 

 

Kuroo stared in awe at what he was seeing. Tsukishima was still there on the bed, and he was there, too, sprawled all over Tsukishima’s body. Kuroo was seeing himself sprawled all over Tsukishima’s body.

“Is this a dream?” Kuroo whispered to himself.

He walked closer to the two bodies, touching them. He caressed Tsukishima’s cheek, and he lifted his other body’s wrist. His other body twitched, and Kuroo felt himself fade for a millisecond, then stepped back making a mental note not to touch his body if he wanted to stay in this dreamlike state longer.

He wondered what he should do. Should he look for the train Tsukishima had boarded? No, that would take time. Should he himself ride the train? No, he probably wouldn’t find Tsukishima at all. Plus, he felt as though this dream wasn’t the same as The Dream.

He stared at the sight before him, thinking hard. Then, an idea popped into his head. If Tsukishima had entered Kuroo’s mind somehow, then maybe Kuroo could enter Tsukishima’s mind the same way.

He didn’t know if it was going to work, but he wanted to see through every possibility imaginable. He took a deep breath, held Tsukishima’s head in place, then took a dive.

 

 

 

Kuroo was drowning.

At least, he felt like he was drowning.

He was underwater, moving his arms and legs to keep himself afloat. He could see nothing but darkness.

“Tsukki?” he said. “Tsukki, are you here?”

Kuroo tried to swim to a general direction, but found nothing there. “Tsukki!” he screamed. All he could hear was his own echo. He decided to swim down, seeing if there was an end to this seemingly infinite darkness, until he saw a small speck on from a distance. He gasped, then swam further down.

When the figure was within an arm’s reach, Kuroo saw that it was Tsukishima, curled up on fetal position. “Tsukki,” Kuroo called out.

Tsukishima lifted his head and looked at Kuroo with a bewildered face. “Kuroo,” he sniffed. “You’re here?”

Kuroo gave a small smile. “You haven’t fulfilled your promise. I figured I’d come get you.”

Tsukishima was breathing heavily, unable to say anything.

“Tsukki, you can’t stay here.” Kuroo kneeled in front of him and rubbed his arms comfortingly. “Come with me.”

“This is what my mind looks like, Kuroo,” Tsukishima laughed weakly. “There’s nothing here but darkness. I’ll never escape it.”

Kuroo looked around. “Yes, you can.”

“How?” Tsukishima spat.

“Live."

Tsukishima and Kuroo stared at each other. Tsukishima swallowed, his eyes drooping.

Kuroo held his hands. “Come with me.”

Tsukishima shook his head.

“Tsukki…”

“Don’t waste your time on me.”

The water and darkness surrounding them started to get heavier.

Tsukishima’s body started to shake. “You’ll leave one day.”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll find out I’m not all that great. You’ll get tired of all this. Of me. I’ll ruin your life.” He tightened his grip on Kuroo’s hands. “You’ll leave and I won’t take it against you. I know that even if you tell me to never base my value on it, there’s darkness within me. You see it. God, I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Kuroo pulled Tsukishima close so their foreheads would touch, but said nothing.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” Tsukishima whispered. “I just want to be happy. I’ve tried to reach out, I really did. But every time I did, everyone just seems so much farther away. Everyone’s busy, everyone has their own lives to live. Who’d take time to listen to my petty problems?”

“I will,” Kuroo mumbled.

“Kuroo, I’m broken,” Tsukishima said, as though he really was broken into pieces. “I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re the closest friend I’ve had.”

Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Trust me when I say this: I’m not going to tell you that I’ll take away all this pain and darkness inside of you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that. But if there’s anything I’ll promise—and it’s a pinky-thumb promise—it’s that I’ll endure everything with you. I know I’m sounding like a broken record at this point but,” he took a deep breath, “you don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ll be here with you.”

Tsukishima leaned forward, resting his head on the crook of Kuroo’s neck to cry. Kuroo smiled, squeezing his hands. “Let’s go.”

And he began to swim upwards, never letting go of Tsukishima. And when he felt that they’ve swum up high enough, Kuroo closed his eyes, breathed in, then opened them again.

He was standing in the hospital room, still holding Tsukishima’s hand tight, and staring at their sleeping bodies.

Tsukishima gasped. He stared at his body that was on the verge of death. He trembled. Kuroo looked at him. “I know,” Kuroo whispered. “You look hideous in real life.”

Tsukishima punched him, and he let out a yelp.

Kuroo let Tsukishima go, clutching on his stomach and attempted to laugh. But he looked at Tsukishima’s tear-stained face and gave smiled at him instead. “Look at that though.” He pointed to where Kuroo’s real body was clutching onto Tsukishima like his life depended on it.

Tsukishima licked his lips, and scoffed. “You didn’t try anything on my body, did you?”

“I’m wounded. I would never,” Kuroo said with a smirk. “Not when you’re asleep.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who wants to see you wake up.” Kuroo wiped Tsukishima’s tears gently. “Your mind may be a mess, Tsukki. But I’ll help you through all that suffering. You see it, don’t you? I’m right here with you.”

Tsukishima nodded his head. Kuroo grazed his thumb across Tsukishima’s bottom lip, biting down on his own in nervousness. “I’ll help you find it,” he whispered. “I’ll help you find your music.”

Tsukishima placed his hand on Kuroo’s that was still on his warm cheek. “Kuroo,” he said, breathlessly. “You might be it.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened and he beamed. He hugged Tsukishima tight, smiling wider than he ever had before. He held onto Tsukishima, never intending to let him go. He wanted to say what he had wanted to say these past weeks. He wanted to tell Tsukishima how he felt. But he was smiling so wide that he couldn’t summon a voice to speak.

He slowly opened his eyes, and his smile faltered. He was on the chair, gripping on the hospital bed sheets. He lifted his head, breathing heavily, not wanting to look at Tsukishima and becoming disappointed yet again. He bit back a sob; how could he torture himself like that? Dream of something that would get his hopes up, something that would make him hate reality even more?

This needed to stop. He needed to let go.

He wiped a tear that rolled down his face then took one last look at Tsukishima.

Tsukishima.

Tsukishima, who was staring at him.

Kuroo leapt from his chair. He buzzed the nurse button frantically until someone barged in through the door, and suddenly, nurses invaded the room, smothering the patient and leaving no room for Kuroo to see what was happening. He momentarily stepped out of the room, slid to the floor, and swallowed hard.

He let himself sob heavily out of happiness.

 

 

 

It took almost a month for Tsukishima to recover. And every single day, Kuroo was there by his side. Sometimes, Akiteru watched over his brother too, but he had to go back to Osaka more frequently to work. Tsukishima had been right; Akiteru did have a hard time getting enough money for Tsukishima’s hospital bill.

But money was coming in, that was certain. Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima’s childhood friend, sent over a considerable amount, as well as his old volleyball teammates and coaches. Kuroo chipped in too, despite Akiteru’s protests.

“You’re doing so much for Kei,” he said. “I can’t ask for more.”

“Akiteru-niichan,” Kuroo replied. “Just please take it.”

It had been a miracle, the nurses said, that Tsukishima could talk normally after a week. He was likewise recovering fast during his physical therapy.

And every day, Kuroo was at his side, helping him, cheering him on, and being the butt of crass jokes and side-comments.

He did those even though Tsukishima couldn’t remember a single thing about him.

 

 

 

It had been one afternoon when Kuroo arrived with a pink box. He set it down on Tsukishima’s lap. He smiled at Tsukishima, expectantly. “Open it.”

Tsukishima, curious, opened the box and gasped at the two slices of strawberry shortcake he found inside. Kuroo brought out two plastic forks and gave one to Tsukishima. “Your favorite,” he said.

“How did you know?”

Kuroo’s smile faltered. “You told me. We ate some over a month ago.”

Tsukishima blinked. “Oh.” Then began to eat the cake in silence.

Kuroo set his fork down. “You don’t remember?”

Tsukishima sighed, then set his fork down as well. “Kuroo-san, to be honest, I don’t remember you at all.”

Kuroo frowned. “I see.”

He thought about never seeing Tsukishima again. He dwelled on the pain he felt over the memories fading from Tsukishima’s mind. Sometimes, he’d wonder if all of it had been real. He’d lie in bed and let the tears fall, trying to hold on tight to every smile, every word, every light touch they shared in slumber.

But he knew he couldn’t leave. He had a promise to fulfill.

So he came back every single day—he had filed for a leave of absence at the gym, and Saeko was forced to place her brother as a stand-in—and talked to Tsukishima as though they were great friends, as though Tsukishima never forgot. Kuroo would repeat some stories he’s told before, and he’d hear the same laugh from the same jokes he’d told before. He would hold Tsukishima’s hand if he ever saw Tsukishima grow silent and over think, and he’d come running if he ever felt in his gut that Tsukishima was suffering from his inner darkness.

On the nights when Akiteru couldn’t sleep in the hospital, Kuroo would willingly step in his place and watch over Tsukishima. It’s always on those nights when they’d lose the most sleep. Kuroo would bring over board games and challenge Tsukishima to a game of Snakes and Ladders or Monopoly, or bring stacks of papers to boast of his “artistic prowess” (“You call that a cat, Kuroo-san? It looks like death.”), or nag Tsukishima to no end until the blond gives in to the inane request to read some of his writing aloud. (“That’s beautiful.” “All I read was the title, dumbass.”)

Sometimes, when they could get away with it, Tsukishima would walk on his crutches with Kuroo to the hospital garden and just sit in silence.

There never was a day when Tsukishima wouldn’t see Kuroo. “Are you sure you aren’t a creepy stalker or anything?” Tsukishima would remark.

Kuroo hummed. “I don’t know, why don’t you check the Tsukishima Kei altar I have in my apartment with all your fallen hair and nap drool?”

“Get out of my room.”

“No way! I still haven’t gotten a blood sample yet!”

It wasn’t to say that Kuroo always had a great time visiting Tsukishima. Sometimes, he’d say something he shouldn’t have. On other times, Tsukishima would hurt him with his harsh words. But the hardest days were when Tsukishima would get into his episodes, closing himself off to Kuroo and beating himself up emotionally. Sometimes, Kuroo would believe it when Tsukishima would tell him that he should leave.

But if there was a consistent glimmer of hope in Kuroo’s life, it’s that every time he walked through the door each morning, he’d see Tsukishima smile at him faintly, his eyes glistening.

And it was enough for Kuroo to keep holding on.

 

 

 

Tsukishima eventually recovered completely, and Akiteru raised enough to pay for the bills, and he brought Tsukishima back to his tiny apartment. Kuroo never came by when Akiteru told him Tsukishima was being released. He felt like he needed to let the brothers sort things out themselves. Plus, he was afraid that Akiteru would tell him that he’d take Tsukishima back to Osaka.

Kuroo went back to work, finally made up with Bokuto who cried when they hugged, and ignored every question that had to do with his leave and his dreams.

When Akiteru called Kuroo one night, Kuroo tried his best to put on a brave face. He thought it was to tell Kuroo what time they would be departing. He was prepared for the worst. But all Akiteru said to him was, “I’m entrusting Kei to you, okay? You’re a great person, Kuroo.”

And that was that.

 

 

 

Kuroo didn’t dream that night. He hadn’t dreamt since. But it was fine. Reality seemed to be far more interesting nowadays.

 

 

 

He awoke in a jolt at the banging on the door of his apartment. He cringed at his slightly dented alarm clock, then grumpily rolled off his bed. He stomped towards the front door, and swung it open.

“I swear to god, Bokuto—”

Tsukishima knitted his eyebrows. “You look like shit.”

Kuroo froze, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. “How did you get here?” He finally asked.

“Nii-chan dropped me off before catching his train.”

“At 6 in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima rubbed the back of his head. “It couldn’t wait.”

Kuroo cocked his head to the side.

“Are you intending to just stare at me like that all morning?” Tsukishima huffed. “Put on something warm.”

Kuroo wanted to ask why, but he found himself dashing to his room to grab some pants, a sweater, and a pair of socks.

He and Tsukishima walked in silence. The cool morning breeze made Kuroo shiver, and he almost tried to take Tsukishima’s hand for warmth. His fingers twitched, and he shoved them deep inside his sweater’s pockets.

“Where are we going?” Kuroo asked.

Tsukishima looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on earth. “The riverside,” he answered.

Kuroo’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Tsukishima needn’t respond, because when they turn a corner, Kuroo was staring at the pink trees that lined up the river. Petals covered the grass and the water that flew and drifted along with the wind.

Kuroo clutched his chest. The scenery was so beautiful.

“They bloomed overnight,” Tsukishima said. “I don’t know why, but when I saw them, I thought of you.”

Kuroo looked at him, his eyes watering.

Tsukishima rubbed his nose. “I don’t remember you telling me about it while I was in the hospital, but I could hear your voice in my head saying how much you’ve been waiting for the cherry blossoms’ full bloom here on this river.”

Kuroo felt a tear run down his cheek. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I have.”

Tsukishima lifted a hand to Kuroo’s face. “Are you crying?”

Kuroo laughed as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Which part?” Tsukishima quipped. “That I’d bring you here at 6 A.M., or that the cherry blossoms would actually bloom?”

Kuroo smiled. Tsukishima, after not getting a sarcastic response from Kuroo, softened his expression. He told Kuroo, “It’s a Thank You for helping me recover. I had hoped it made you happy.”

“It did.”

For so long Kuroo had stayed where he was, waiting for something to come. And when he was asked what that something was, he didn’t have a clue. He just knew that, when it did come, he would know because then he would feel like there’s nothing else to wait for anymore.

And when Kuroo started to think about it, he realized that perhaps the bloom of the cherry blossoms elsewhere would be just as beautiful as they were at home.

And suddenly Kuroo finally made sense out of what Bokuto had told him more than a month ago. His heart skipped a beat, his head spun, and his lips quivered.

_Have you ever felt that, Kuroo? Having known loneliness for all your life, then meeting someone who feels like home?_

“Tsukki,” he found himself saying.

Tsukishima looked at him. Kuroo was smiling.

“You are my home.”

 

 

 

 _It is no surprise_  
_that danger and suffering surround us._  
_What astonishes is the singing._

 _Our spirit persists like a man struggling_  
_through the frozen valley_  
_who suddenly smells flowers_  
_and realizes the snow is melting_  
_out of sight on top of the mountain,_  
_knows that spring has begun._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked this! It was a plot bunny I had since November, wrote a short chunk of it during the last week of that month, then decided to use my 8-days off from work over the holidays to write this baby.
> 
> It was literally 54 short bond papers long (1 inch all around, Arial pt. 11) but I didn't want to turn it into a multi-chapter fic. I felt that it would disrupt the flow.
> 
> I based Tsukishima's dark episode from a breakdown my close friend (diagnosed with major depression) had months ago. But if it didn't do justice to what a depressed person actually experiences, I sincerely apologize.
> 
> I love these two too much! I had fun writing this. I'd appreciate your thoughts on this baby! Thank you for reading! :)


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